


Deus Domesticus

by Maiden_of_Asgard



Category: Loki - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - Fandom
Genre: Avenger Loki (Marvel), Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Loki (Marvel) Gets a Hug, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2019-10-03 08:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17280179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_Asgard/pseuds/Maiden_of_Asgard
Summary: Life with the God of Mischief has turned out to be pretty darn wonderful - wonderful, but not necessarily *predictable.*





	1. Chapter 1

When the alarm blares at exactly seven o’clock in the morning, you groan and roll over, slapping recklessly at the nightstand in an effort to hit the ever-elusive snooze button. Beside you, Loki stirs, and then there’s a loud crack, and then silence. 

You turn, leaning over his shoulder. Your accusing glare is entirely wasted, since he hasn’t even bothered to open his eyes. “Did you break  _ another _ alarm clock?”

“I’ll fix it later,” he mumbles, and then he’s somehow managed to get his arm around you to pin you to his side. He’s so  _ good _ at that - you’re pretty sure people aren’t supposed to be quite that nimble when they’re half-asleep. 

But then, Loki Laufeyson isn’t exactly a regular ‘person,’  _ is _ he?

He’s  _ insanely _ frustrating in the mornings, but he’s also  _ adorable  _ when he’s sleepy and crabby, so you decide to kiss his chin before you chastise him. “You’ve got that meeting, remember? With Mr. Stark?”

Loki cracks one eye open. “Don’t call him that. It’s so…  _ respectful.” _

“Well, he is a billionaire. And a superhero. And your  _ boss.” _

_ “Hardly—” _

“And  _ I _ am but a humble  _ normal  _ person, so it can’t hurt to suck up.”

His other eye opens. “If you are interested in ‘sucking up,’ my darling, then—”

“Nope!” You clamp your hand over his mouth, the golden band on your finger glinting in the morning light that streams through the curtains. “Not gonna seduce  _ me  _ to get out of work this morning, Silvertongue. But I’ll make a deal; you go get in the shower, and I’ll make you coffee?”

He pulls your hand away, his eyes sparkling. “Bathe  _ with  _ me,” he counters, “and I will make the coffee for the  _ both  _ of us.”

Your eyes narrow, because this  _ seems  _ like a trap, but he’s grinning, and you’ve never quite been able to resist that smile. “Okay,” you tell him. “But  _ only _ a shower.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

He calls you just before lunchtime, while you’re sitting at your desk by the window, trying to write. “Come down to the lab,” he says. “Darcy is ordering pizza, and I would like for you to join us.”

“I won’t be in the way?” 

You already feel guilty as it is, living in the Tower, in what had once been ‘his’ rooms, not contributing to rent; but then, it’s not like you have any other options. As it turns out, the government likes to keep a close eye on their otherworldly allies, even once they’re married and (supposedly) settled down. 

“If you are in the way,” he says, “then everyone else will simply have to make a  _ new  _ way, won’t they? Besides, I thought you mortal women  _ lived _ for gossip, and there is apparently some development with the relationship of the receptionist on the third floor; frankly, I’m very tired of pretending to pay attention to it.”

It’s hard to suppress your laugh, but you manage. “So, you  _ really _ just want me there as a distraction, huh? I see how it is.”

“A  _ beautiful _ distraction.” There’s a pause as he waits for his words to work their magic, likely knowing that you can picture his eyes as he says it. It works - it always does. “Will you come?”

“Okay.” You probably relent far too easily, but it  _ does  _ sound like a nice way to spend the afternoon. “If I can find the lab again. Remind me of the elevator code?”

Loki’s smirk is audible in his voice as he tells you. “I will see that you are  _ amply  _ rewarded for your service, my lady.”

Then he hangs up, and you’re left to just sit there and blush for a moment, still basking in glow of a god’s adoration. 

 

~*~*~*~

 

You’ve always felt that it’s a tricky thing, your position in the Tower. Aside from being Loki’s permanent plus-one, you don’t really have any business being there - though that isn’t to say that anyone seems to particularly  _ mind  _ your presence. 

Still, you worry sometimes that you’re too out-of-place. What if you  _ hadn’t  _ run into him in that antique bookstore that one rainy afternoon? What if you hadn’t gotten into an argument with him over who saw the book you both wanted first?

And what if you  _ hadn’t, _ in one of the only moments of boldness in your entire, relatively-normal life, asked the handsome, glaring stranger to go out for a coffee?

You certainly wouldn’t eat dinner with superheroes once a week, for starters. And you  _ highly  _ doubt that you would’ve done yoga on the weekends with a lethal former-assassin and a world-class astrophysicist...

Your life has gotten pretty  _ weird _ these past few years, if you’re being completely honest with yourself. 

But it’s a  _ good _ weird. 

 

~*~*~*~

 

You’re sitting on the couch, trying to find something on TV that your partner-in-crime won’t complain about  _ too  _ much, since he’s decided that most ‘mortal entertainments’ are ‘drivel.’

“Alfredo?” he calls from the kitchen, “or the red?”

“I really don’t know why you bother asking, since we  _ both _ know you want the alfredo.”

Loki lets out a dramatic sigh, and you try not to giggle as he brandishes a wooden spoon in your general direction. “I am attempting to cater to your  _ whims,  _ no matter how I feel about…  _ tomatoes.” _

You can’t hold back your laugh, then; the look of pure, abject disgust on his face combines wonderfully with the yellow floral-print apron he’s wearing, and Loki huffs, turning back to the stove. “You know, those things are deadly poison on Asgard,” he begins, “and—”

“I know, love, I know. I guess that’s what I get for falling for an alien—”

_ “God.” _

“Yeah, yeah. Your alfredo is great; make that.” You start to rise. “Can’t I help?”

“Sit. That’s an order. You said that you aren’t feeling well, did you not? I am  _ more _ than capable.”

That’s definitely true; he’s probably a better cook than you are, really, though you do manage to surpass him slightly when it comes to baking, so at least you have that going for you. “Well… okay,” you say, sinking back onto the couch. And you really  _ aren’t _ feeling great, so what can it hurt to let him fuss over you a little? 

Dinner is delicious, which is no surprise, but you’re still feeling a little off, so Loki stretches out on the couch, tucking you carefully in the crook of his arm. He’s quiet, as you lay there and watch TV, and you can tell something is on his mind, though you’ve learned by now that it’s better not to pry. He always ends up telling you, once he’s mulled over his words.

You’ve almost fallen asleep when he nuzzles against your cheek, and there’s a slightly anxious, soft sort of smile on his face. “It has been two years,” he says, stroking your hair, “and I am due for another visit to Asgard. I would like to petition Odin for one of Idunn’s apples again, and if he continues to refuse, I plan to steal one for you.”

_ Immortality. _ Your heart pounds. 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to risk that,” you tell him. “Your freedom… Loki, you  _ can’t _ do anything that will get you sent back to prison. And besides, I’m still young, right?” Your smile is a little watery, and you curse yourself for being so weak - it isn’t like this is a new topic, or anything.

“You are,” Loki agrees, and he kisses your forehead. “But, you aren’t as  _ durable  _ as I am, darling, and I fear—”

“It’s just a bug.  _ Please  _ don’t worry, okay? When you worry, I get worried, and then it’s just an endless cycle of worry.”

“Very well. I won’t steal an apple - this time around. But I  _ will  _ request one.”

“Okay.” You snuggle against his chest, trying to push your nagging sense of worry away, because Loki never just  _ lets things go.  _ “But you won’t start anything if he says no, right?”

“No,” he says after a moment. “You’re right; it isn’t worth the risk.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

Loki doesn’t keep your apartment very warm, and usually, you don’t mind - it’s a pretty great excuse to cuddle up, and you’re  _ never  _ going to complain about that. Still, you’ve been even chillier than normal, lately, and so when your warm cocoon of blankets is disrupted one rainy January morning, you’re immediately roused.

“Cold,” you grumble, reaching for the covers, but then you realize that there’s an odd sort of look in Loki’s eyes. “Love?”

“I…” He pulls up the hem of your baggy sleep-shirt carefully, reverently, then places his palm flat on your stomach. The warm buzz of his magic is nothing new, but it  _ is  _ unexpected, and your anxiety spikes as he stares at your belly, his brow creased in concentration. 

“What’s wrong?”

“There is…” 

You wait for him to finish, but he seems like he’s lost his train of thought, and so you put your hand over his. “Loki, you’re scaring me.”

He meets your gaze, then, his eyes wide. “You are…  _ we  _ are with child,” he says. “I can  _ feel _ the magic.”

_ “What?” _

His face falls slightly, some of the wonder fading from his eyes. “I am sorry, darling. I know that you must be terrified, considering—“

“No, no, it’s not that.” The last thing you need right now is for him to slip back into one of his old spirals about being a ‘monster.’ “I mean, I’m just… I’ve already  _ told  _ you that I wanted to, but I just wasn’t expecting it so soon. And especially since we weren’t even sure if we  _ could.” _

His relief is immediate, and he even lets out a little sigh of a laugh. “I can only assume that we are  _ exceptionally _ compatible, then.”

Your mind is still reeling, and Loki continues to absentmindedly stroke your stomach. “So, are you  _ sure?  _ This is really happening?”

“Yes,” he says, and then he leans forward and steals a kiss - one you’re  _ very  _ happy to give. “Yes, this is  _ really _ happening.” Then he grins, and you see that familiar spark of pride flare to life, of princely mischief. “I will have  _ heirs.” _

“Yeah, you will.” 

Loki looks like he’s about to spontaneously combust from excitement, and you give him another kiss, deciding to just enjoy the moment and worry about logistics later. You can’t even be that irritated about him caring about having an ‘heir,’ because he  _ is  _ kind of still royalty, and—

“Wait,” you say suddenly, pulling away. “Did you say  _ heirs?” _


	2. Chapter 2

“I look like a beached whale,” you groan, pouting in the mirror as Loki carefully wraps a cheerful red scarf around your neck.

“You look _beautiful,”_ he replies, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Glowing.” His lips move to your ear, and you shiver as his voice drops. “Belly rounded with _my_ children—”

“Hold up, loverboy; I’m glad that you think I’m sexy like this, but I’m well past the point of feeling even _vaguely_ sexy. Or even _mobile.”_

“You are a goddess.”

Sighing, you give yourself another once-over in the mirror; you aren’t really seeing _goddess,_ at the moment. “Should I put on another sweater?”

“If it will make you more comfortable. You are still cold?”

“Always. I think that maybe they’re having a snowball fight in there, or something.”

Loki bites back a laugh. “We need to begin to consider names; Stark has been pestering me, and I _refuse_ to have a child named _Elsa.”_

That does make you smile, despite your general physical discomfort. “Do you even get that reference?”

“I do, and I do not appreciate it.”

“Maybe we should each get one, y’know? I name one, you name one, and everyone’s happy.”

“That is a terrible idea, darling.”

“It was Thor’s. Oh, and he is also _really_ fond of the name ‘Þordís,’ for the record.”

He wrinkles his nose, pulling another heavy, loose sweater out of the dresser. “I am not naming my daughter after _him,”_ he says. _“Norns.”_

“Hey, give him some credit - we wouldn’t even be together if it wasn’t for him. Do you not remember how crazy S.H.I.E.L.D. got when you decided to start seeing me? If he hadn’t stepped in, I’d probably still be roaming dusty bookstores looking for _another_ handsome god to seduce. Besides, I’ve never seen someone so excited about being an uncle.”

“I know,” Loki replies dryly. “The antique Asgardian cradles in the living room were difficult to miss.”

“Oh, did he deliver those already?” You pull the second sweater over your head. “I honestly stayed in bed most of the day."

“You did remember to drink a cup of that tea that Eir sent to help with the fatigue?”

“Yep.”

“And the vitamins that Banner recommended—”

 _“Yes,_ Loki.” You lean up to kiss him on the chin. “I’ve been doing everything that _everyone_ has suggested. They’re going to be fine, and so am I.”

He still seems a bit fretful; it’s pretty common, these days, and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy him fussing over you, even though you hate that he’s so anxious. “If the journey to Asgard wasn’t so difficult, I’d much rather you deliver there.”

“Me and the kiddos have a team of geniuses looking out for us - including you. I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“Hmm.”

Sighing, you shift from foot to foot, vexed by the stiffness in your ankles. Everything feels stiff, lately, like you’re turning into some kind of reluctant statue. The massages are nice, though. You’ll have to ask Loki for one of those as soon as you get back to the apartment. “Can we go, sweetheart? My feet kind of hurt, and standing around just makes it worse.”

“Of course, of course.” He springs into action at once, wrapping his arm around your waist. “I can carry you, if you’d like.”

“I think I’ll manage. C’mon, we’re going to be late.”

“A prince is _always_ exactly on time,” Loki replies, escorting you through the living room and out into the hall as if you’re made of glass. “You should learn these things, darling, as you’re essentially royalty now, yourself. You’re far too _accommodating.”_

You snort. He’s ridiculous - but you love it, and you’re pretty sure he’s mostly just doing the snobby prince act to entertain you. “You act like our friends are peasants.”

“Aren’t they? Besides, ‘friends’ is a very strong term. ‘Acquaintances’ would be more apt.”

The reflective doors of the elevator make it easy for you to send a very critical look his way. “Uh-huh. ‘Acquaintances’ who are throwing you a huge party to celebrate your name-day.”

Loki meets your gaze in the reflection, then rolls his eyes. “They are only doing it for _your_ benefit,” he says. “They like _you,_ and they merely tolerate me.”

“You know that isn’t true. We’ve basically got a whole little Avengers family now.” Then, a more worrying thought occurs. “Oh, _God,_ Loki - I just realized that our kids are going to have the _weirdest_ birthday parties. We’re probably going to have to screen the presents to make sure they aren’t getting weapons and dangerous explosive science kits and things like that.”

He grins. “Imagine the _chaos.”_

“And here I thought you were worried.”

“I _am_ worried, but it is the burden on your body that causes me the most concern; once they’re delivered, it will be much easier for me to keep you all safe and sound. They are certain to be fearsome, though, and I look forward to it.”

 _Fearsome toddlers - yeah, there’s something to look forward to,_ you think. “How about ‘Andora?’” you ask as you walk down the hallway towards Tony’s ‘party room,’ hoping to maybe catch him off-guard. “For one of the names?”

Loki looks suspicious; maybe you should’ve segued into that one a little more gently. “Unless I am mistaken,” he says, “that name is _also_ derived from ‘Thor,’ is it not?”

“Okay, okay, so it is! But it’s _sweet,_ and I bet he’d name a baby after you, too. Plus, I just like the sound of it, and there are like a million nickname options.”

“Very well,” he replies blithely, steering you through the open doorway with a hand on your back, “then the boy will be called ‘Jörmungandr.’”

“No way in hell are you naming my baby after a sea monster, Loki Laufeyson.”

“It is _your_ world that decided that said monster was a son of mine,” he retorts. “I might as well put some truth to the stories.”

“You better not mess with me right now, Trickster - I’m hopped up on crazy hormones and feeling a little emotional.”

“Fine, _dear._ I’ll save that name for next time.” Loki laughs as you elbow him in the side. “And I might - _might_ \- even be willing to consider your suggestion, but only if you promise not to breathe a word of it to my brother.”

“If you don’t watch it, there isn’t going to be a next time,” you tell him, plastering an innocent-looking smile on your face, because your brother-in-law has spotted the two of you entering the room and is currently barreling towards you, a brightly-wrapped package in his hands.

“As if you could _resist—”_ Loki begins to whisper in your ear, but you silence him with another well-placed elbow.

“I come bearing gifts,” Thor says, offering it proudly. You’re pretty sure that he must’ve wrapped it himself, because the tape placement is a little… odd.

“For me?” you ask. “Or is it for the birthday boy?”

“For the both of you.”

Loki sighs, but takes the package from Thor’s hands, methodically plucking the paper free. The electric fireplace across the room calls to you, and you leave them to the bickering that’s certain to be brewing, glad to see that the massive burgundy, plush armchair that you love is currently unoccupied. This is the one room in Stark Tower that’s truly got a _cozy_ sort of vibe, in your humble opinion, and you’ve pretty much claimed it as your own.

Caterers are setting up a pretty fancy-looking spread on the long wooden table situated on the other side of the room, overseen by a very fussy Tony Stark, who seems to be worried that there isn’t going to be enough food. “Just… maybe get some more steaks going,” he says. “Aliens eat a lot.” He shoots you a look as the poor caterer clutches a tray to his chest, clearly unprepared to hear such a casual mention of alien dinner guests. “Their _wives_ apparently do, too.”

“I’m eating for three!” you protest, dragging a blanket over your lap. “And two of the three in this case are basically demigods, so you can just—”

“I’m just _kidding,_ Ice Queen; I’m glad you’ve got an appetite. Pepper had a hard time eating with both of ours. I thought she was gonna murder me.”

“Where _is_ Pepper? I need someone to commiserate with me.”

“Visiting family with the kids. I told her Loki would be devastated that she missed his party, but she didn’t seem too worried about it, believe it or not.”

“Oh, I can definitely believe it,” you tell him, because even after all of this time, your darling reformed-villain of a husband still manages to rub the formidable Pepper Potts the wrong way. “She’d told me about this baby yoga video series, though, and I wanted to check it out.”

“Just text her. She won’t mind.”

But somehow, despite _everything_ \- despite the fact that you’re sitting in a room with Iron Man and Thor - and oh, look, here comes Captain _freaking_ America - the idea of just casually texting Tony Stark’s wife for advice on baby stuff seems a little extra surreal. She’s just so glamorous and _tough…_ and you’re just… you. Of course, you do have a god basically waiting on you hand and foot at this point, so maybe you’re a little bit more impressive than you tend to think.

 _Think of the devil, and he appears._ Loki saunters over to your chair, one hand behind his back. “Well,” he says, “it seems that Thor is not entirely useless.”

“What’d we get?”

“This,” he says, and then he holds out a folded bundle of very rich-looking green fabric, a golden circlet resting on top of it.

“That’s a crown,” you state, not entirely certain if you’re processing this right.

Thor appears behind him. “A very delicate diadem, to be precise. It was Mother’s, while she was still a young princess on Vanaheim. Loki has said for some time that he would like to see you dressed—” He’s cut off by a very pointed glare from Loki, and you look between the two of them, perplexed.

“Dressed like what?”

“Royalty,” Thor helpfully supplies, entirely ignoring his brother’s visible irritation. “To be dressed like a queen of Asgard, for you know he is always saying to me that you are _his_ queen, and—”

“That’s _quite_ enough, Brother.” If you didn’t know better, you’d almost say that fearsome Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief, looks a little embarrassed to be publicly called out for praising his wife. It’s pretty darn cute, as far as you’re concerned.

You smile up at them. “It’s a very beautiful gift. Thank you. I’m not sure where I’ll wear royal gowns anytime soon, though, unless we have another party.”

Thor turns to his brother, his brow furrowed. “Have you not told her?”

“No,” Loki snaps, “I hadn’t. It was _meant_ to be a surprise, you great—”

“Well, I’m definitely still surprised,” you interrupt, “and extremely confused, too, so would one of you care to enlighten me?”

Thor coughs, and when Loki still doesn’t say anything, he coughs again, a bit louder this time.

 _“Will_ you stop that? I would appreciate some privacy with my _wife,_ if you don’t mind.”

Looking a bit dejected, Thor sighs and retreats to the table to examine the spread, and you start to feel anxiety bloom in your chest. There’s clearly something _serious_ to discuss. “What’s the big deal?” you ask. “Did something happen?”

Loki kneels before you, twirling the diadem in his hands. “In light of recent developments,” he says, “and considering how… _enthusiastically_ I’ve adapted to my penance on Midgard, Odin has seen fit to grant me a favor or two.”

Your pulse races, and he takes your hand, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. “A favor?”

“As soon as we are able to travel safely, we will journey to Asgard, and you will be recognized as my wife and a member of the Allfather’s family - a goddess.”

“I… that’s—”

“And you will be offered immortality, love.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? I needed more fluff. <3


	3. Pater Familias

“I swear to God,” you snarl, yanking Loki down to your side by his shirt, “if you don’t knock me out with that magical epidural  _ right this minute—” _

“It won’t be much longer,” he soothes, allowing you to basically strangle him with his shirt. His hands wrap around yours, warm and comforting. “Try to breathe, darling.”

Your free hand wraps around the metal railing of the bed, which audibly crumples in your grip, and you start swearing at the top of your lungs, because it feels like Loki’s kids have decided to duel over who gets to be born first.

From the foot of the bed, Bruce Banner stares at you, wide eyed. “Has she always been that strong?”

“Pregnancy side-effect,” Loki replies, his eyes never leaving your face. 

_ Why are they standing around talking? _ you wonder, outraged.  _ Don’t they get that I feel like I’m about to combust in one giant, icy blast?  _ “I made a mistake,” you wail, “I should’ve gone with  _ real _ doctors in a  _ real _ hospital instead of stupid space nerds—”

“Hey,” Bruce says, “I have a very broad range of expertise.”

You yank Loki even closer, til his eyes are only inches from yours. “Get. Them. Out.”

He hesitates, looking to Bruce for reassurance. “It’s now or never,” Bruce tells him, tapping away at the diagnostic monitor that’s carefully angled so that you can’t see it (and presumably freak out even more). “Your time to shine, Loki.”

His jaw tightens, and then he turns back to you. “I’m so incredibly proud of you,” he says, and then he leans over and kisses your forehead. A blanket of blissful numbness hits almost immediately, and then everything is dark. 

You open your eyes what feels like a second later, and you’re a little alarmed by the golden-green sparks floating through your vision. 

“Blink.”

Turning your head, you find Loki hovering just beside you, slightly flushed and disheveled. “Blink,” he says again, “and your vision will clear soon enough.”

“Loki?” You try to turn your head again, but it’s too heavy. Your heart pounds. “Babies?”

A relieved smile breaks across his face, bright as a sunrise. “They’re absolutely perfect,” he says. He helps prop you up on some pillows, smoothing strands of hair that have stuck to your sweaty forehead. “Your body reacted well to both the stasis and the healing. Banner is taking some measurements and vitals, but they both seem perfectly healthy. Terribly loud, too - they must get that from you, my love.”

You burst into tears, your emotions messy and hard to define. “I did it?” you ask. It all seems so surreal. “They’re really okay?”

“Of course they are,” Loki says. “Of course. You are my little warrior-queen, aren’t you? My champion.” He kisses your lips, then stands; you can practically feel the excitement radiating from him. “Stay right there, I’ll be back.”

He bounds out of the room before you can react. You can hear him fussing just outside, but you can’t completely make out what he’s saying.  _ Relax,  _ you tell yourself. You don’t understand why you’re so nervous. But…

Loki appears in the doorway, a squirming bundle carefully tucked in each arm. He’s positively beaming, even when one of the tiny bundles lets out a powerful wail. “Do you hear her?” he exclaims. “She’s a mighty one, I’m certain of it.”

Your heart nearly stops as he settles onto the bed beside you, graceful as ever, and you spy the tops of their little heads, already covered with wisps of dark black hair. “She?” you ask. You’re practically frozen as Loki helps to place on of the infants in your arms, suddenly terrified that maybe, somehow, you won’t be any good at this. You blink up at him, tears still hanging on your lashes. “A girl?”

“Not one,” Loki replies, and a blue little fist suddenly emerges from the bundle in his arms and begins to wave around, the wailing intensifying, “but two. I suppose I’ll have to save the name Jörmungandr for the next time.”

You barely even notice the teasing - you’re completely enraptured by the squinting, scarlet eyes peering at you from the bundle in your arms, at the tiny, chubby cheeks, the reaching fingers. This one seems almost solemn, unlike her sister, who Loki bounces in his arms as he settles back against your pillow, the two of you side by side, admiring your creations.

“Hello, baby,” you breathe, offering a finger to her grasping little hands. She grabs onto you with surprising strength, and you gasp - she’s icy-cold, but she warms almost immediately. You watch in fascination as her skin shifts to a shade nearly identical to your own, and when she blinks, her eyes are a striking blue-green. Stunned, you turn to Loki, but he just grins at you.

The baby in his arms seems somewhat soothed, for now, and you reach over to brush her cheek, tracing one of the barely-visible, thin lines running down her chin and neck. She immediately turns her head to your finger, letting out an unsatisfied gurgle when she isn’t able to catch it in her mouth.

“‘Andora’ for our little fighter,” Loki says. “What do you think of that? I think that you’ve more than earned your pick of a name, and it  _ has _ begun to grow on me…”

“I love it,” you tell him. “It’s perfect.” He’s cuddled up so close to you that it feels like there’s nothing else left in the world - all that exists is you, Loki, and your daughters, safe and healthy and together. “We never talked about names for two girls.”

“I have a suggestion.”

“What is it?”

Loki leans over and taps her nose, which reverts for a moment to blue - but only for a moment. You’d swear that she was frowning at him in consternation, and you can’t help but laugh. “Asrun,” he says. “A good name for a powerful goddess, which she is certain to be.”

“Asrun.” It  _ sounds _ right. “What do you say to that, hmm?” you coo, snuggling her against your bared chest, close to your heart. “Do you like that name, Asrun?”

She nuzzles your skin and sighs. If your heart wasn’t already about to burst, it certainly is now. You desperately want to hold both at the same time, but you aren’t sure that you can manage it right now, as exhausted as you are. Luckily, Loki seems to understand, and he wraps one arm around you, making you feel even more like two halves of the same whole. 

“Andora and Asrun,” he says, “princesses both. And as for you, my queen—” he kisses the top of your head “—I want you to know that no man could ever be happier than you have made me today.”

Figuring out how to get the babies to nurse properly is exhausting, even with all of the books that you’ve read and the videos that you’ve watched, but Loki stays by your side for every second of it, soothing you when you’re so frustrated and exhausted that you feel like you’re about to start crying all over again. You’re delighted to discover that Andora, wriggly as she is, seems very content and cheerful once she’s being fed, and you send a relieved look Loki’s way, but he barely seems to notice, too caught up in the intense staring contest he seems to be having with his daughter. 

His eyes change to red, and Asrun’s quickly follow suit. “Norns,” he whispers, “would you look at that?”

“I’m so happy, Loki,” you tell him. “So happy… but I feel guilty, because I’m also so, so sleepy.”

“Sleep, then.” He smiles at you, and you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look so free, so full of joy. “Sleep, and I will watch over all three of you.” His kiss is soft and sweet, and you wonder if maybe there’s some magic in that, too, because your eyes soon start to drift closed. “My three greatest treasures.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist adding to this one. <3

**Author's Note:**

> @gingerwritess & some lovely anons on Tumblr put the idea for domestic Loki fluff in my head, and this is what I ended up with! (Sometimes, you just really need some Loki fluff, y’know)? Hope y’all enjoy!! ❤️ 👩🏼💻


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